


Cheers to the End of the World

by mizdiz



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20335216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizdiz/pseuds/mizdiz
Summary: "He twisted his mouth, and without a word, held out his bourbon with a smirk. She surprised him a second time when she reached across the distance between them and took the bottle in her hand. He watched her unscrew the cap, bring the bottle to her lips, and take a significant swallow. She made a face, but it was fleeting, and she brought the bourbon back down to her lap next to the wine, as she wiped the corner of her mouth off with her thumb."season 1; CDC arc; missing scene





	Cheers to the End of the World

The door was ajar and Daryl pushed his way through, stumbling into a room, a bottle of bourbon in his hand, the brown liquid sloshing around just above the halfway mark inside. It appeared to be a rec room, with a pool table, foosball, a television, and walls full of books. It was strange to see a place like this when the world outside had gone to shit and then some, but he was too drunk to think that hard about it. He went for one of the couches, ambling like a walker, only to find the seat already occupied.

“Shit, my bad,” Daryl said, stopping himself just short of collapsing on top of Carol. She was a mousey thing, as his brother liked to call her, and it turned out she was as quiet as one too. She was curled up like a kitten on the cushy leather, shoes kicked off haphazardly on the floor beside her, and she was nursing a bottle of wine in her lap. 

“S’fine,” she said, blue eyes wide with surprise at the sight of him, but there was no sign of her usual skittishness.

“I’ll just…” Daryl nodded towards the door he came from, but Carol shook her head.

“You don’t have to,” she said, gesturing at the rest of the couch. “I don’t need to hog the whole room to myself, besides, there’s plenty of space.”

There was. The couch was a wide, black leather sectional that was worth more than any item of furniture Daryl ever owned combined. There were fluffy throw pillows strewn across it, and damnit if the whole thing didn’t look like heaven compared to the ground he’d been sleeping on for weeks. He wasn’t up for company, as if he ever was, but the woman had a daughter, Daryl figured, so it was unlikely that she’d be up long. He was just drunk enough that bothering to find his bedroom amidst all the doors down the hallway seemed like such a hassle, and if he didn’t offer her any conversation, maybe she’d be smart enough to do the same.

Wordlessly, he gave her a one-shouldered shrug and made his way to the corner of the couch, a safe distance from her. He lifted his legs and placed his muddy boots on the clean ottoman, leaning his head back against the cushions with a sigh. He closed his eyes and said nothing. Neither did she.

There were no clocks in the room, but Daryl would have sworn up and down that he heard one ticking in the silence. Every passing second made him more and more ansty, which he couldn’t make heads or tails of, because he’d never been one to be made uncomfortable by the quiet. Through partially lidded eyes, he peeked at her. She didn’t appear to share any of his discomfort. If anything, she seemed lost in her own thoughts, tracing the mouth of the wine bottle with her finger, and staring off into the middle distance with hardly even a blink.

“That ain’t gonna get you lit if you don’t drink it,” Daryl said then, immediately rebuking himself. He had come into that room hoping she wouldn’t fill it with empty words, and here he was, opening himself up to conversation with some woman he’d hardly exchanged ten words to in their whole time together.

Carol turned her head and regarded him. Daryl felt like he was being read, and he didn’t like that she seemed to actually be seeing some of the words on his pages. He shifted around, crossing his arms over his chest, his bottle hanging in the loose grip of his left hand. 

“Tastes like shit,” Carol said finally, taking him completely off guard. After a beat, Daryl barked out a single laugh.

“Prefer white wine, huh?” he asked. “Nobody tell you it’s the apocalypse? Can’t get picky with our booze.” 

“White or red, neither does anything for me except give me a headache,” she said, grinning a little at him. She had a nice smile. He twisted his mouth, and without a word, held out his bourbon with a smirk. She surprised him a second time when she reached across the distance between them and took the bottle in her hand. He watched her unscrew the cap, bring the bottle to her lips, and take a significant swallow. She made a face, but it was fleeting, and she brought the bourbon back down to her lap next to the wine, as she wiped the corner of her mouth off with her thumb.

“Better?” Daryl asked. She handed the bottle back with a nod.

“Better,” she agreed. She leaned back with a loaded sigh and Daryl frowned.

“You good?” he asked after a brief internal debate. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are any of us?” she asked, and he had to concede the point. That being said, it was only a few days ago that he’d stood beside her while she bashed her dead husband’s brains in like she was purging years worth of poison. 

“Right,” he mumbled. “How’s the kid doin’, though? After…” No one ever claimed he was good with words, but Carol seemed to get the jist. A humorless smile spread over her face.

“How are you doing without your brother?” she asked. Daryl immediately blanched, taking a swig of bourbon in lieu of a response, and she nodded knowingly. “That’s how she’s doing,” she said. “How I’m doing, too. It’s not so cut and dry, is it?” 

It wasn’t, and there was no use saying so if she already knew it, so instead he silently passed her the bottle, which she accepted.

“To my piece of shit husband and to your piece of shit brother,” she said, holding the bottle up in a toast. No one else had the gall to look Daryl in the eye and call his brother a piece of shit, but she did it without a hint of remorse, and Daryl surprised himself by reacting not in defense, but with laughter.

“We mournin’ or celebratin’?” he asked, and Carol grinned.

“Both,” she said. “Neither. Depends on the second; could change on a dime.” She took another big swallow and passed it back to him so he could seal the toast. With only a moment of hesitation, he gestured in the air with the bottle and drank. 

The room was getting fuzzy around the edges, and his tongue felt loose as he said, “Fucker didn’t deserve a piece like you, anyway.” By the time his brain caught up with his mouth the words were already out in the open and he was preparing to bolt. Carol stared at him with wide eyes for a beat, before cracking up. 

“A piece like me?” she asked between giggles. Daryl covered his face with his hands.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean to say that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Carol said, sounding so genuine he dropped his hands to look at her. “That’s probably the first compliment I’ve received in five years at least.” 

Daryl’s ears and cheeks were hot and he hoped she would have the decency to write off what must be a truly tremendous blush as just the alcohol. They stared at one another, the air between them suddenly tense. Daryl’s heart jumped up to his throat when he saw her cast a glance at the door.

“Everyone’s probably asleep,” she said then, turning back towards him with a glint in her eye. He chewed on his lower lip.

“Pro’ly,” he said finally.

“Doubt anyone will come looking for us. Sophia was out like the dead when I went and checked on her.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that. He knew what she was getting at, but there was no way in hell he was about to act on anything without it being spelled out explicitly for him. Maybe she realized this, or even read it on him with that unnerving stare of hers, because she sat her bottle of wine to the side and stood up off the couch. Daryl watched her warily as she slowly made her way to him, nudging his knees apart and standing in between his legs. He swallowed hard.

After he sat like a statue for a good long moment, Carol reached down and took him gently by the wrists. She placed his hands on her hips, and he dug his fingers into her sides hard enough to give her the reassurance he couldn’t voice. She wetted her bottom lip and undid the tie to her pajama pants.

Very slowly, Daryl pushed her pants down her legs, until they pooled in a heap at her feet. He ran his hands back up her bare thighs, and ghosted over the wet spot on her panties, causing them both to inhale sharply. She took hold of the waistband of her panties and let them fall down too. Daryl’s eyes didn’t stray from hers as he unbuckled his belt hurriedly, lifting himself up enough to shove his own pants and boxers down past his knees, cock springing free, standing at attention at the beautiful woman suddenly naked from the waist down in front of him.

He scooted so he was sitting on the edge of the couch, and she climbed onto his lap, and then they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest, and the intimacy made him taste adrenaline on the back of his throat. It was too much, she was too close, and he was going to have to push her off of him and she was going to think it was something she did, and he didn’t know how to explain to her that it’s him that was broken, not her.

That isn’t what happened. Instead, he saw that same discomfort mirrored back at him in her face. They were inches apart, and he could feel the trembles in her body as fear threaded through her. Neither of them were ready to be close to another person like this. At least, he figured, when their sudden tryst came to an end it would be mutual.

But she shook her head then, and whispered the word, “wait,” so quietly he almost missed it. She slid off of him, turned around, and he began to get the idea as she climbed onto his lap again, this time facing away from him. She hesitated, and he dug his fingers into her pelvic bone again; reassurance that she’d solved their problem.

He grunted when she pushed down onto him and took him inside of her. She was wet and gripped him tight, contracting her muscles around him as she moved her hips in a rolling motion. He dropped his forehead in between her shoulder blades and tried to get back some control before he embarrassed himself. 

He snaked a hand around her and placed two fingers on her clit, letting her rub herself against him as she rocked her body back and forth. She panted, head lolling back as her movements got faster, and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to hang on long enough to get her there first.

“Fuck,” she groaned suddenly, her entire body tensing up as her orgasm washed through her. Her walls spasmed around him and it was more than he could handle. He made a truly indecent sound as he went over the edge, hot, cumming harder than he ever had. He held her to him until every last bit had spilled inside of her, and didn’t let go until he began to go soft.

At the loosening of his fingertips, she climbed off of his lap. Cum dribbled down her inner thigh and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. Daryl watched her numbly as, wordlessly, she found her clothes and pulled them back on. He couldn’t bother with his yet—his orgasm had taken his muscle strength with it. Carol picked up her discarded bottle of wine and grinned a little. 

“Thanks for the toast,” she said. “Cheers for the end of the world.” She didn’t wait for a reply. She slipped out of the room, quiet as a mouse, leaving Daryl alone and exposed.

The next morning, he hung back away from the group, as was his wont, and regarded her fight through her hangover, rubbing her temples every few minutes, and picking at her eggs. They weren’t going to talk about it, he already knew that, but halfway through breakfast she must have felt his eyes on her, because she sought him out. They held each other’s gaze just long enough for her to give him an imperceptible smirk. She took hold of her water glass and held it up just high enough for him to get the message. In his hand, he raised his own cup of orange juice. 

Through the chatter of the others around him, he mouthed a single word at her:

“Cheers.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't anything at all. i'm rewatching twd with my sister and i had feelings about baby caryl. plus i just straight up missed writing caryl fic lmfao. 
> 
> speaking of, if you're a scrap metal fan, keep an eye out towards the beginning of september. that's when new content will be coming your way. perhaps even a team groupchat interlude, who knows? 
> 
> (i do. i know.)
> 
> ilu,  
-diz


End file.
